


Oil Paints (ohshc/female reader)

by froggychairwriter



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: A little angst? Maybe, Art, Café, Drawing, F/M, In Character, I’m bad at tags, Ouran High School Host Club - Freeform, Painting, Slow Burn (kinda), being the club graphic designer, bookstore, can you call this fluff?, like i said i’m bad at tags, ohshc, ohshc x reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29023845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggychairwriter/pseuds/froggychairwriter
Summary: my first fanfic!! don’t judge me please lol. [contains swearing]A girl gets thrown into the crazy world of the Ouran High School Host Club.
Relationships: Haninozuka Mitsukuni/Reader, Hitachiin Hikaru/Reader, Hitachiin Kaoru/Reader, Morinozuka Takashi/Reader, Ootori Kyouya/Reader, Suoh Tamaki/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! my name is froggychairwriter (or coco). i love ohshc so i decided to write a cute little fic for it!! next chapter will hopefully be out by the first week of february! this is my first fanfic so please be nice. :)

Oil Paints

(Y/N)- your name  
(F/N)- first name  
(L/N)- last name  
(E/C)- eye color  
(H/C)- hair color  
(S/C)- skin color

Today is your first day at the prestigious Ouran Academy. You’re here on an art scholarship, as a talented painter. You are not as rich as the important families at Ouran, but you are not poor. Well, you don’t want to be late!

Ouran Academy. My new school. I pulled back my (H/C) hair in a messy braid and put on my new Ouran uniform. A knee-length yellow dress with long sleeves. It felt so weird to be wearing something so fancy to school. As I glanced at the clock, I realized I was running late. I quickly packed my bag and grabbed a granola bar for a quick breakfast. As I locked the door to my apartment behind me and hurried down the stairs, I kept one eye on the cloudy blue sky. Day one at my new school. 

The school was crowded, but even so, it was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. The paintings and ballrooms and rows upon rows of pink doorways. As I rushed into the huge classroom, I scanned the faces of my new classmates. Rich kids always had fancy makeup and the newest hairsty- wait. Was that Fujioka Haruhi? My best friend from grade school? She was.. a boy now? I remember the good times she had had with Haruhi when we were younger. I let out a small laugh, remembering our shenanigans. Well then, I better go up and talk to he- no, him. As I got closer, I could hear the banter between the red-headed twins standing next to Haruhi.

“Fujioka Haruhi?” I asked, feeling a little shy. The brunette turned and upon seeing me, gave a charming smile.

“(L/N) (F/N)! It’s good to see you! How did you get into Ouran?” The twins standing next to Haruhi turned in sync and glanced at each other. 

“Yeah, I got in on an art scholarship! How have you been?” I answered. Haruhi and I kept talking, but I kept an eye on the twins. They seemed to be eyeing me up and down, judging me. Ugh. 

“So….. (L/N) (F/N)” the twins said in unison. A chill went down my spine. They reminded me of those twins from the Shining. 

“How do you know our little Haruhi?” 

“Guys stop, (Y/N), I’m sorry.” said Haruhi, glaring at the twins. They slunk away in shame, whispering to each other.

“Haha, no problem. So, Haruhi, when did you come out?”

“Huh?” 

Wait, was Haruhi not out yet? Damn it. 

“Like, as trans?” Fuck, I’m so stupid. God this is embarrassing. 

“Oh no, I’m still technically a girl. I mean, biologically. You see,” and he- no she, kept talking about a confusing situation involving the “Host Club” and an 8 million yen vase. 

“Oh. Well.. um if you need any help, I’d be happy to stop by. To help with the quota or run errands or something.” 

Haruhi smiled and nodded.

“Thanks (Y/N)!”

-later that day-

Music Room 3. This was it. I opened the door and saw a group of handsome males entertaining guests. There was a tall blonde with a cluster of shrieking girls around him, a bespectacled black-haired boy with a notebook, and those twins from earlier. As I walked in, I was shocked to see what looked like a child talking to the girls, with a tall boy who seemed to be his babysitter besides him. And then I saw Haruhi. I definitely felt a little overwhelmed at everything, so I decided to take a seat at the velvet couch. I pulled out my earbuds and a sketchbook from my bag and decided to wait until the crowd of giggling girls had passed to talk to Haruhi. 

I started sketching the school, in all its glory. The chandeliers and tiled hallways and beautiful murals blossomed across the page with my pencil. I pulled out a pencil case and selected a few markers. Light pinks and feathery blues started appearing on the heavy paper. I couldn’t wait to get home and paint this for real.

“Excuse me. Miss.” A charming voice startled me out of my focus. I turned my head and pulled out my earbuds. It was the boy with glasses. He offered a slight smile. Okay that’s definitely intimidating. 

“My name is Ootori Kyoya. And you are…”

“Um, (L/N) (F/N).”

“Well then Miss (L/N), how may I help you?” he asked, bowing to kiss my hand. I stifled a small laugh. 

“Oh no,” I stuttered, blushing, “I’m not here for anything, I’m just here to see my friend. Um, Haruhi. Fujioka Haruhi?” The tall boy smiled.

“Yes, Haruhi. Our newest member. Well, right this way.” He led me to a corner by the window, where Haruhi was sitting, pouring a cup of tea. 

-Kyoya’s perspective-

The new girl had apparently made her way to the host club. To see Haruhi. I assumed they were friends, as they seemed to know each other quite well. Something about this new girl was different. Nothing worth pursuing, but still. Something about her (H/C) hair and her soft (S/C) skin. I had a glimpse at that book she was drawing in. A bit sloppy, but I wish I could see the school in her eyes. It really was quite a lovely place. She certainly isn’t like the other girls at Ouran Academy. 

-End of chapter one-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i am so so sorry this is late!! anyways, just some big chunks of text and our main character gets ✨robbed✨, literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said beginning of february but a lot happened and i procrastinated lmao. also i apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes!! anyways, keep an eye out for chapter 3. xo, coco.

I was sitting in my bedroom drawing when I got the email. It was from the headmaster, an alert of how “every student should have an extracurricular club and/or a sport.” I had always been particularly unathletic, so I decided a club would be better. I wanted to find some sort of art club, something at least a little bit enjoyable. I pulled out my paint set and picked out a creamy gray color. It was one of the only colors left that I hadn’t run dry. My mother gave me this set when I was in middle school, so it had been well loved and worn out. I thought about a new one, but I didn’t have the money. ¥15,700 was cheap for the paints I wanted, but I still couldn’t pay for it. My mom made me pay for all my art supplies, and I had practically nothing in my bank account besides my college savings. I squirted the gray paint onto the canvas and pulled a brush from the glass of water on my table. The sun was setting and the orange light shone through my window. The weekend was almost over.

-The next day-

“Welcome, ladies!”

I stepped into Music Room 3 with a mission. Peering over the heads of the other girls, searching for someone. Ah, yes!

“Kyoya? Can I ask you something”

The black-haired boy looked up from his notebook. 

“Can I help you?” Geez, this guy was always so scary. Even after many a trip to the Host Club to visit Haruhi, he was the only one I knew nothing about because of his cold manner. 

“Um, yeah, actually! I was wondering if you- um, if the Host Club had, like, an open position? Not as a host, but maybe I could design some posters for you? Or maybe business cards? Um… I know you guys have magazines, so maybe I could help with that?” Ugh no. I felt so stupid. I just wanted an extracurricular. The art kids were so prissy and rude. 

Kyoya snapped his book closed. I saw a glint in his eyes behind his glasses. A chill went down my spine.

“Actually, I was about to put out an ad. We are in the market from a graphic designer.”

“Oh- really? Thank you so much!”

“Yes, yes. We can pay… hm let’s see,” he checked his notebook, “how about ¥5000 per piece?” 

“Ah, ¥5000 per piece?! Really? Yes, of course, I’ll start tomorrow!!”

“Excellent.”

I was so excited to begin. Back home, I started sketching the club just as a practice. Faces and people were my favorite things to draw. I loved watching the faces come alive. For the most part, they were easy to draw. I had just settled into the piece when my phone alarm rang. Dang it, I had to go to work. My wallet, keys, phone, and sketch pad were hastily shoved into my patterned tote bag. I headed to the door and pulled on my old sneakers.

“(Y/N), are you going to work?” my little sister asked.

“Yup,” I smiled, “I’ll bring you a croissant from the cafe afterwards!”

She giggled and thanked me. The bus ride to work was mostly boring, I had taken it so many times. As I walked into the bookstore where I worked, I was shocked to see Haruhi and the Host Club there. And here I was looking like this? My hair was tucked into a bandana because I hadn’t washed it, and my combo of an old hoodie and ripped black leggings didn’t exactly scream “fashion.” 

Guys, you really don’t have to be here.” I heard Haruhi say exasperatingly.

“Nonsense!! I am an expert on commoners and their way of life, so I must see the bookstore!” a voice that had to be Tamaki exclaimed. 

“Boss, I just don’t see what-”

“-is so interesting about a bookstore.” Dammit, the twins were here? No doubt they’d have something to say about this situation. 

“I think it’s fun, right, Takashi?” remarked Honey-senpai’s unmistakably cute voice.

“Yeah.” 

It was just like the Host Club to catch me at work. Not that they knew I was here- right? Wrong, apparently. The twins ambushed me in the back, by the romance section of all places. 

“Heyyy (Y/N), what are you doing here?”

“Wait, you’re not working here, are you?”

“You do know the school’s policy with jobs, right, (Y/N)?” I sighed. I knew this would happen.

“Yes, I do know the policy. My mom asked the school, and they approved it.” The twins seemed to wilt at the fact that they couldn’t subject me to any blackmail. 

“Well then, know any good books?” asked Kaoru. I couldn’t tell them apart by looks if I tried, but I knew that Kaoru’s voice was a little different. 

“Actually, yeah I do! What’s your favorite genre?”

Hikaru looked a little surprised at his twin’s betrayal. And then he looked disgruntled. 

“Hm, maybe fantasy?” 

I tried to ignore Hikaru as I replied,

“Really? I just read this amazing novel set in the French Revolution and it was the best!!” 

Surprisingly, the shift at the bookstore wasn’t that bad. I mean, the Host Club was sufficiently annoying, but it wasn’t terrible. I spent some time chatting with Kaoru, and I sold a few books as well.

“(Y/N), heading home?” asked my boss.

“Yup, just grabbing my bag.” I stepped into the store room and scanned it. I saw the chair I usually stashed everything on, and the cart of books that needed to be reshelved, but no bag. Shiiiiit. No bag meant no wallet, no keys, no phone, and worst, no sketchbook. 

“Hey, Chiyo-san? You haven’t seen my tote bag anywhere?”

I could hear rustling from the other room. 

“No, I haven’t. Do you need a ride? Or some money?”

Tears welled in my eyes. Someone probably stole the bag while I wasn’t looking. And now it was gone forever. 

“Y-yeah. Could I borrow like.. ¥200? For the bus fare?” The words caught in my throat and burned. The bus ride was a blur. Anxiety weighed in my brain as I held back tears as best I could. My stomach hurt. As I got off the bus, I ran up to my apartment door and knocked as hard as I could. I just wanted to sink into my bed. My younger sister answered the door.

“(Y/N)? What’s up? Do you have my croissant?” Ahhh. I had forgotten all about my promise.

“No, Ami, sorry. I.. couldn’t. I couldn’t get to it, sorry. Where’s mom?”

She pointed towards the kitchen. I pulled off my shoes and headed in, a second away from breaking down. I fell into her arms, sobbing, and explained everything. She was understanding, thank god. The rest of the night was fine. We ate dinner, then watched a movie and I read my new book before I went to bed. I felt strange, not stressed, just somewhat empty. Empty, that’s all.

-At school the next day-

I had been running late for class when I yanked open my locker. Shit shit shit shit SHIT I was going to be so late and in trouble. I pulled out my books and slammed the door closed, cringing at the loud sound. I ran down the halls, desperately willing the late bell not to ring. Yes, there it was! I would make it! I opened the door, and right on cue, the bell rung. I let out a sigh, and headed to my desk. And there it was, on top of the desk. My old, blue patterned tote bag. I wanted to cry. The teacher started talking, but I ignored him. Everything was there. My wallet was full, all the money still there, my keys and my Pikachu keychain that Ami gave me for my birthday, and phone was fine, and everything. My cherry lip balm, my half-empty pack of gum, my crumpled receipts and crumbs from the last time I had chips, and best of all, my sketchbook. Oh, thank god. I thumbed through the pages, and smiled at all my old friends. It was perfect. Every page was intact... except for one. It was ripped out hastily, and if it weren’t for the leftover paper shreds, I probably wouldn’t even notice its absence. The most recent page, a simple sketch of the Host Club, and me. Nothing crazy, no outrageous poses besides maybe a peace sign. I felt a little confused, but too overwhelmed to think much into it. I felt whole again.


End file.
